


First Impression

by Fu_Dragon



Category: Kung Fu: The Legend Continues
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fu_Dragon/pseuds/Fu_Dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When 16-year-old Peter and a recuperating Kermit Griffin, invited by Paul, meet for the first time, it's not quite the best start for their future relationship. Fateful decisions have to be made. But when events unfold, everything takes a turn no one would've ever anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Impression

Spoilers: None, pre-Series  
Genre: Gen  
Canon Characters: Peter Caine, Kermit Griffin, Paul, Annie, Kelly and Carolyn Blaisdell. Caine appears in some flashbacks.  
Original Characters: Ronny  
Disclaimer: All the characters from KFTLC do not belong to me. They belong to Michael Sloan and others. I will return them in almost the same shape I got them in. *deep sigh* Original characters belong to me. No money is made with this story.

 

July 1982

"Come on, Pete. It's too late to chicken out," Ronny told his friend.

Sixteen-year-old Peter hesitated as he bounced on his toes. His expression tightened into lines of worry. He pushed away from the tree and started pacing like a caged tiger.

"I don't think this is a good idea. We better go back," he said finally, turning back to Ronny and drawing a hand through his tousled hair.

Ronny scoffed impatiently. "What are you, Petey? A coward or a man?"

Peter pointed at the large 'no trespassing' sign in front of them. "Hey, man, you never said that we'd be going onto private property!"

Ronny shot him a mocking glare. "Aw, I see. You're scared shitless, just because we might be trespassing. I know what's going on here. Lil' Petey-boy is so afraid of his almighty foster father, the police captain, that he's lost all his courage."

Peter's eyes gleamed with anger as his stance straightened, and he balled his hands into tight fists. His lips became a thin line of tension and he shouted, "I'm not afraid of Paul. You have no right to say that! I'm not afraid of anything!"

Ronny merely grinned. He knew which buttons to push for Peter and he used the knowledge to his advantage, enjoying the game immensely. It was his new favorite hobby. He knew a lot of people noticed that he bullied Peter, but the only person who never saw the truth was Peter, the poor orphan boy, and that was fine with Ronny. After all, it meant he had a free hand to do with Peter as he pleased.

"Then show me. Yesterday, you were all crazy about this idea… and now you're nothing, but a big fat chicken." Ronny imitated chicken sounds and flapped his arms.

This final taunt seemed to spur Peter into action. With a dirty look at his friend, he approached him in long strides. He kicked the 'no trespassing' sign as if trying to prove that he wasn't afraid and said, "Lead on, I'm right behind you."

***

Well hidden in the brush, Peter and Ronny had a very good view of the hut and a small lake in the middle of a large clearing in the woods. They settled into comfortable positions and waited for the show to begin. Soon, sounds of laughter and feminine voices drifted to their ears.

Ronny nudged Peter. "See, I told you they would come. Lucy's father owns this property, and he let it slip that the girls come here every Friday. Do you have the camera?"

"Um, no. I forgot it," Peter responded, hoping his friend wouldn't realize the lie.

"Idiot," was all Ronny said, already distracted by the action at the small lake.

The three girls arrived at the lake and began disrobing. It was obvious they thought they were alone. When they were finished, the close-fitting bikinis they wore showed off each prominent curve of their young bodies. Teasing each other, they ran off and jumped into the crystal clear water.

"Come on, show me what you got, Lucy." Peter heard Ronny mumble.

To Peter's dismay, and Ronny's joy, the girls seemed to hear Ronny. As they got out of the water, each girl took off her top. They lay down in the soft grass and let themselves dry in the warm sun, talking about things girls talk about.

Peter felt very uncomfortable watching the threesome, especially as the enticing sight made his body respond in ways he hadn't anticipated. It had sounded like a wonderful idea to observe the girls in their secret bath-place yesterday, but now he couldn't shake the thought that this was very wrong, particularly after they'd passed several 'no trespassing' signs on their way to the lake. Unable to remain motionless any longer, Peter began to shift his weight restlessly.

Ronny glared at him and whispered. "Man, stop the shuffling, or the girls will detect us!"

Ashamed, Peter tried to hide his growing erection, but the other boy had already noticed it. Ronny snickered and said in a low voice, "Little Pete has a hard-on. Hey, boy, what's the matter with you? Don't you have any discipline?"

Peter gritted his teeth. Humiliated, he noticed the familiar feeling of heat taking residence up in his face. "Shut up."

Ronny didn't relent. He kept on mocking. "Don't tell me, you've never had sex with a girl."

Peter felt more heat spreading out on his cheeks. He knew the blush would tell Ronny everything he needed to know.

"Aw, I forgot. You're a poor orphan. You've probably never seen a topless girl before," Ronny continued maliciously.

The teasing was too much for Peter to endure. He jumped to his feet and started running down the small path leading back to the road. He didn't react to the girls' scared cries that quickly became angry, nor did he react to Ronny's shout for him to stop.

Peter ran as fast as he could, jumping over the roots and other obstacles in his path. Tears of shame ran down his cheeks as his heart thudded in an unnatural beat and his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. As he reached the unfortified road leading into the forest, he stopped and doubled over, holding the stitch in his side and gasped for breath.

Minutes later, a beefy hand landed on his shoulder, spinning him around. "Are you crazy to run off like that? What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all?" a very angry Ronny shouted at him.

Shooting Ronny a defiant glare, Peter freed himself from the grasp with a short twist of his body.

"Just leave me the hell alone!" he shouted back.

Peter whirled round and stomped off in the direction of his foster home, determined to get away from his 'supposed' friend as fast as possible. He was still hurting from Ronny's merciless ribbing. There was no way he could face the older boy now without attacking him.

Ronny wasn't about to give in. He followed Peter and grabbed his arm. "Don't even think about it, buddy. You can't go back home. The moment you enter Blaisdell's house, your precious father will know that something's happened. It'll be written all over your face. You never can hide anything. And knowing you…you'll break down and tell him everything!" he yelled.

Peter yanked his arm free once more. He stared at the taller boy with blazing eyes, daring him to touch him again. "He's my foster father," he growled.

Ronny stepped back, looking startled by Peter's reaction, then his expression turned hard. Emphasizing each word, he said, "Peter, just listen for a minute. What do you think will happen if your foster father finds out? He'll send you back to the orphanage so fast your head'll be spinning. Or he'll send you directly to jail and throw away the key."

Peter blanched. Ronny's words had hit home. What if Ronny was right? He'd come to live with the Blaisdell's nearly a year ago, but he still felt insecure. In secret, he had always feared they would send him back if he slipped up. He'd tried to be good all the time, and worked hard to avoid doing anything that would make Paul or Annie angry, but this time… Well, he'd messed up big time – and he knew it. However, it was way too late to change things now. The harm was already done.

"This is not your concern," Peter finally managed to choke out, unconsciously imitating the speech pattern of his deceased father.

"It is, you idiot! The girls will identify you! They didn't see me when I snuck away, but they saw you. You can't go back to the Blaisdells!"

It never occurred to Peter that Ronny was just trying to save his own hide. He believed every single word, not noticing the blatant lie. 'You can't go back,' kept repeating over and over again in his mind. He lost track of what Ronny was saying, not even when there was a contented smile spreading out on the other boy's lips. Trembling like a leaf in the wind, Peter turned around and fled into the forest.

***

Peter had no idea how long he'd raced through the forest. The stitch in his side was killing him and his face burned from several scratches he got when he hadn't bothered to notice the tree branches as he ran. Yet, he hadn't run far enough. The sight - a small brook, fed by an even smaller waterfall - was very familiar to him. He wasn't even surprised to see his wild flight had taken him directly to his secret place.

Defeated, Peter crouched down beside the brook. He splashed cold water in his face to ease the stinging in his cheeks, and then his gaze was drawn to the slowly flowing water. Mesmerized, he stared at the rippling surface.

Distorted faces appeared in the water. They were the faces of his three female classmates, looking accusingly at him. Peter gasped and blinked. The apparition didn't disappear. The faces shifted into the faces of Kelly and Carolyn. His own sisters might have been among the girls they'd spied on. The very thought sliced through his heart like a searing knife.

"NO!" he shouted, and slammed both fists into the water with a blend of shame and rage, nearly falling into the brook before he caught himself.

The faces were now gone, but not the tormenting thoughts. Peter sat back with his arms pulled tightly around his knees, his head resting on his arms, and he let the tears flow.

 _*What do I do? Pop, what do I do now? Please help me…*_

It was several long minutes later before Peter calmed down. With trembling hands, he brushed the last tears from his face.

 _*Father, if I only knew what to do.*_

His mind wandered back to his time in the temple and he remembered a similar incident. Xiang, a boy his age, had stolen chewing gum from a shop in the town. Peter's father, Kwai Chang Caine, had discovered the theft as they'd left the shop. Peter couldn't recall exactly what had happened to the boy afterwards, only that he'd been punished. However, he remembered the talk with his father vividly as he'd tried to understand why Xiang had stolen.

\---

 _"Peter, I need to speak with you."_

 _Peter's head kept trying to get a glimpse of Xiang, but the boy had left with Old Ping Hai._

 _"Father, why did Xiang steal?"_

 _Caine shrugged. "I do not know, my son."_

 _"But there has to be an explanation. Didn't you ask him?"_

 _"I did ask him, Peter. He did not know why he stole the item. His path is clouded, he is the only one who can find the key to his conscience."_

 _"What do you want to tell me, Father?"_

 _"For everything, there is a reason, my son."_

 _"I still don't understand. How can he be punished if he doesn't even know why he did it?"_

 _"We are always responsible for our actions, my son. When you do something wrong, you must suffer the consequences."_

\---

The sound of a breaking branch jerked Peter out of his flashback. He looked down at his hands, wondering what he should do. Finally, he pushed himself up from the water. A shudder raced through his body as new tears threatened to fall. No, he couldn't hide from the world any longer. It was time to face the consequences of his actions. Peter marched toward the Blaisdell's home with determination.

He had barely stepped out from the forest underbrush when the sound of an approaching vehicle made him turn around. Peter blanched as he recognized the car. It was Paul's silver sedan.

 _*It's too soon. I'm not ready yet. What'll I tell him?*_

In a flurry of emotions, there was a sudden realization that his actions had gone beyond getting him in trouble, but that they also affected Paul. If one of his kids landed in jail, it certainly wouldn't help Blaisdell's career or reputation. After all, Paul had just been promoted to captain of the 101st precinct in Chinatown two months ago. Peter remembered the promotion celebration and how happy Paul had been all too well. Paul had given a short speech, thanking everyone for joining in celebrating his promotion. Among other things, he'd talked about the importance of his family to him, and how proud he was of his wife and children. It'd been the first and only time, when Peter had truly believed he belonged to the Blaisdell family. It was a feeling he thought he never wanted to lose, but it was long gone now.

And how had he returned Paul's trust? He'd gotten into all kinds of trouble and perhaps damaged Paul's career in the process. Paul had always treated him as if he were his biological child. No, he didn't deserve this wonderful family. He should not be here, he should hide somewhere, far away from anyone who might care for him. One more glance at Paul and Peter knew it was too late to run again.

Shoulders slumped, Peter watched Paul climb out of the car. He was accompanied by another man, one Peter had never seen before. The stranger was smaller than Paul and slightly heavier. Despite the heat, he wore a black suit, a red tie and green sunglasses. Although there was a white streak on the right side of the black hair, he looked much younger than Paul and as they approached, Peter noticed that the dark-clad man limped.

Both men stopped in front of Peter and seconds of silence stretched to eternity. As Peter looked up to meet Paul's gaze, the captain started to talk. "Peter, what are you doing here all alone? I thought you went to meet Ronny."

"Yes…I…we…," Peter stammered, stopping helplessly in mid-sentence.

Paul's eyes narrowed. "I got a call from the precinct on my way back from the airport. There was a very upset call from a parent who wanted to talk with me. He said," Paul paused as his ice blue eyes penetrated Peter's soul, "…his daughter and two other girls were being watched by two boys at his private property that included a cabin and a lake in the woods. Do you know anything about that?"

Peter averted his gaze, flinching at the edge in Paul's voice. "Yes, sir," he said in a small voice.

"I didn't hear you, son. Look at me when you're talking to me."

As Peter raised his head, a single tear slid down his cheek. "Yes, sir," he repeated a little louder.

Paul crossed his arms in front of his chest. Steel blue eyes sought his hazel ones, looking for answers, but only found more questions. "And? Can you tell me more?"

Peter gulped. "Y…yes sir. It was me."

"Voyeurism and trespassing on private property is a crime. I thought I taught you better," Paul said sternly with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"I…I'm sorry, Paul…sir."

Paul took a deep breath, exchanging a glance with the other man. The stranger merely shrugged with a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "The hormones, Paul, the hormones."

Paul sighed. "Get in the car, Peter. We'll talk at home."

***

"Hey, there you are," Annie greeted the threesome as they entered the house. "Welcome, Kermit. Long time no see. It's so wonderful having you here again, if only for a couple of days. Imagine my surprise when Paul called to say he was picking you up at the airport."

Hands outstretched, she went to Kermit and enveloped him in a warm hug. He kissed her on the top of the head before he released her.

"The pleasure's all mine, lovely lady. I tried to pay a visit sooner, but, well, you know, Annie, the business is hard."

Annie swatted the visitor playfully on the arm. "I know all your excuses, Kermit. Don't even think about fooling me."

Apparently, she felt the waves of tension radiating from Peter and Paul, or her sharp ears simply caught Peter's relentless shuffle on the carpet. Paul could see the welcoming smile vanishing from her lips as concern clouded her delicate features.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a tight voice, releasing her hold on Kermit.

Paul straightened his shoulders and glanced at the now cringing teenager, who practically radiated guilt. Nothing escaped his vigilant wife, even if she couldn't see, he thought with pride. He went to her and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Don't worry, dear. Peter's gotten himself into some mischief. We'll straighten it out."

"What did Peter do?" Annie said, anxiously digging her fingers into the fabric of Paul's jacket. "Why didn't you call me, Paul?"

Paul patted her hands reassuringly. "Uh, there wasn't a phone booth in the woods."

"Woods?"

Paul gently pried her fingers from his jacket and breathed a kiss on Annie's temple. "Kermit will fill you in. Peter and I have to have a talk."

Before Annie managed to ask another question, Paul turned round and steered his foster son to the study, noticing Kermit's hand at Annie's back as he guided her toward the couch. "Why don't we sit down, Annie?"

***

"Sit down, Peter."

The young boy took a seat, and promptly began fidgeting on the chair. He looked straight at the floor, not daring to look up at his foster father.

Paul sat behind his desk, tapping his fingertips together, as he studied the restless boy for a full minute. It was a common tactic used to unnerve a perp at the precinct. He decided it couldn't hurt if he used the same method here, though Peter was far removed from the criminals he usually interrogated. And if he was being completely honest, he would have to admit he wasn't sure just how to approach the boy.

"Would you care to explain to me what happened?" he began.

Peter sniffed, apparently losing the battle of holding back his returning tears. "I'm so sorry, Paul. I don't know why I went there and watched those girls."

"You weren't alone."

Peter flinched. "N…no, I wasn't alone. B…but I can't tell you who was with me. I can't betray a friend."

"It's not necessary. I know the other boy was Ronny."

Peter gasped in utter surprise. "How did you know?"

"The girls identified both of you. One of the girls went directly to her parents and told them what happened. You were very lucky that Strenlich caught the call from Mr. Waters. He managed to calm Mr. Waters down, and then he radioed me. I just hope I can resolve this before things get out of hand."

"I'm so sorry, Paul," Peter said again.

"Well, I'd like to hear your version of the story before I call Mr. Waters back."

Peter took a deep breath. His guilty conscience was written all over his face. He started to talk, slowly at first, but then the words tumbled out of his mouth. He told Paul as much as he could without directly mentioning Ronny's part in the incident. When he was finished, he met Paul's gaze for the first time since they'd entered the study.

"What will happen now, Paul? Do I have to go to jail?"

"I don't know, Peter," Paul answered, though he knew that the consequences wouldn't be that drastic. "I'll have to talk to the girl's parents first. If they don't press charges, you and Ronny will be lucky. If they do, or only one of them does,…then things will be out of my hands. And even if the parents won't press charges, you'll be punished by Annie and me."

"Yes, sir," Peter said softly, "I'll accept any punishment you have in mind."

Paul shook his head. "I still can't understand what compelled you to do this. Didn't you see the no trespassing signs?"

Once again, Peter averted his gaze. "I did, sir. But…he…I mean I…"

Peter stopped in mid-sentence and Paul knew Peter had nearly betrayed Ronny. "Peter, you don't have to protect him."

"It's-it's not that. It's just I learned in the orphanage never to tell on anyone."

"You don't live at the orphanage anymore. This is your home."

"I know…ah, I can't explain it so that you'd understand."

"Okay, you don't have to say anything about that now, but you live in a house with two young girls. I have no idea how they will react when they hear this. As for me, I know you'd never spy on your sisters, but did the thought of them even cross your mind when you were watching your classmates? Let's turn this around and look at it from another angle. Would you like the thought of someone spying on your sisters if they were doing the same thing as your classmates, Peter?"

Peter shook his head and he shuddered. It looked like he was suppressing a sob that wanted to come out. "N…no, sir, I wouldn't like anyone doing this to them. In fact, I…I thought of them. But only afterwards. I wasn't thinking straight. There's no excuse for what I did."

"Yes, you're right, Peter, there's no excuse for what you did. What you've done will affect every member of this family in one way or another. It's too bad you listened to Ronny and your hormones, instead using your head."

"I know, sir. I…I'm so sorry, I don't know what else to say. I mean, I can apologize over and over again, but I can't turn back time."

Paul sighed deeply. "No, you can't. I wish we could."

Peter's shoulders slumped, and Paul knew Peter was beating himself up about what happened. Peter swallowed hard and seemed to force himself to speak in an even tone, "I think I better go upstairs and pack my things."

"Why do you want to pack?" Paul asked surprised.

A lonely tear slid down Peter's cheek. "I understand that you don't want to have someone like me under your roof… especially with Kelly and Carolyn. Just give me five minutes and I'll be ready to go back to the orphanage."

Paul got out of his chair and squatted down in front of Peter. The fact that he'd caused that kind of despair in the boy bothered him much more than any of Peter's teenage antics had done. He gently cupped the young boy's chin, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Son, I never said I wanted to send you back. Yes, what you did was wrong, but this doesn't mean I don't love you anymore. We all love you - Annie, Carolyn, Kelly - and me. You are a family member in everything, but name. We all make mistakes. As long as you learn from your mistakes, you only can improve."

"Y…you won't send me back?" Peter asked, his expressive eyes sparkling in disbelief and a hint of gratitude.

A small smile tugged at Paul's lips, he gently brushed away the lingering remnants of a tear on Peter's cheek with his thumb. "No, son. I'd never send you back, no matter what. As I said, we are a family and that means we help each other. We'll go through this…together. Just promise you won't do something like this again, okay? Now, give your old man a hug."

The teen practically leapt into Paul's arms. It was obvious that a great weight had been lifted from Peter's heart. The tears that had been threatening earlier finally came and he sobbed into Paul's shoulder.

Paul waited patiently for Peter to calm down, not loosening his embrace while Peter clung to him so tightly. The fact was to share on the love Peter needed so desperately as much as Peter needed to know it was there. He took a deep breath and was surprised when he shuddered with emotion. He hadn't noticed his own tears swelling in his eyes and he buried his face in the silky mass of Peter's hair. To see one of his children suffer so much was nearly more than the rough and tough Captain of the 101st could endure.

When the storm of emotion had passed for both of them, Paul cleared his throat and offered the boy a handkerchief. After Peter blew his nose, Paul pulled him up and turned him towards the door.

"Well, son, the worst is still ahead."

"What's that?"

"You have to face Annie."

***

One week later

Peter knelt in front of one of Annie's flowerbeds, busy with the task of weeding the flower garden. It wasn't his favorite kind of work, but this time he was very happy to do the gardening. Over the past week, he'd had a lot of time to think about what had happened. Annie had looked so disappointed when she'd learned what he had done. Peter would never forget the sad look on her face, especially knowing he was the reason for putting it there. Since then, he had gone out of his way to please Annie – and Paul – whenever he could.

The sun shone down on his back. It was a very warm day. Peter stopped for a moment, wiping the sweat from his neck. He turned to the right and caught a glimpse of Paul who stood at the living-room window, looking out at him. Peter waved a short hello and it was returned from Paul. Then the teenager dug with both hands into the loose earth to find the roots of the weed, eager to show Paul that he took the work seriously.

A few minutes later, the flowerbed blurred in front of his eyes and he was transported back to the temple seven years ago, watching his younger self and his father.

\---

 _Peter knelt, opposite Caine in front of one of the large herb gardens in the temple's backyard. The nine-year-old boy grasped the weed and pulled with all his might. Caine chuckled and laid his hands atop Peter's. The boy's small hands were lost in the shadow of his father's larger ones._

 _"Peter, no. That is not correct. I will show you."_

 _Peter's eyes widened as he watched his father dig into the earth and extract the weed, including the root. As the youngster tried to get hold of the weed to throw it away, Caine shook his head no. The Shaolin priest pointed to the other end of the garden that looked like a jungle of various plants, mostly weeds._

 _"I don't understand, Father."_

 _"We will dig out the roots and plant them there."_

 _"But why, Father? It's only a weed. We have no use for it."_

 _"We have to think of our actions before we start anything. You are correct, those plants are of no use to us. Nevertheless, the cycle of the nature must not be broken."_

 _"But if you plant it on the other side, the pollen will fly around. Most likely, the weed will start to grow here again."_

 _Caine shrugged and canted his head. "Then we will dig it out once more."_

 _Peter snorted. "I don't see any sense in it. That's ridiculous!"_

 _"We must not dishonor the inherent balance in the nature. We are not judges over life or death. Every life is valuable, even those plants. We have to think before we do anything that might affect them," Caine repeated with a hint of impatience in his voice._

 _Peter laughed. "Aw, come on, Father. This is a weed we're talking about, not some lifesaving herb."_

 _"Without the weed…there is no herb."_

 _"Huh? Pop, you've lost me."_

 _Caine scowled at Peter. "Do not call me Pop!"_

 _"I'm sorry, P…Father."_

 _Caine dismissed the lapse and pointed to the cliff. "Peter, what do you see there?"_

 _Peter turned his head and looked at the spot. "Rocks, grass, birds, and two…no three rabbits."_

 _"Yes. Now tell me what rabbits do like to eat most."_

 _Peter thought hard for a full minute. "Weeds. They love weeds more than the herbs," he blurted out and smiled at Caine._

 _"Correct, my son."_

 _The young boy hit his forehead. "Ah, now I understand, Father. If we plant the weeds over there, the rabbits will spare the herb garden. Well, or at least they won't do as much damage to the gardens than without the weeds. Hence, everything is in balance."_

 _Caine affectionately smacked Peter's cheek. "You have learned your lesson well, my son. I am proud of you."_

 _Peter rubbed the stinging cheek and peered through long lashes at the Shaolin. "I promise, Father. Before I start anything in the future, I will think first about the consequences of my actions. That was the lesson here, right?"_

 _Caine nodded approvingly and drew the young boy into a tender hug. "Yes, my son."_  
\---

Peter stirred as his fingertips touched something slimy. He looked down and realized he'd continued digging while he'd been caught in the flashback. An earthworm wriggled in his hand.

*Yeah, the balance of the nature must not be disturbed. The earthworm may go back, but there's no way I will plant the weed somewhere else in this garden. Paul would call the loony bin if I did. You were right at the temple, Father. However, here there are no rabbits. I'm sorry that I didn't keep my promise about thinking before taking action, Father.*

Forcing the memory into the back of his mind, Peter let the tiny creature crawl back into the earth. As he turned his head, he spotted some flowers lying in the small mountain of weeds he'd gathered. The teen winced guiltily.  
 _*I better pay attention to what I'm doing.*_

A quick glance over his shoulder told him Paul wasn't watching anymore. Relieved, Peter took the flowers and put them back into the flowerbed. He finished just as Annie called from the terrace.

"Peter, stop what you're doing, and go get cleaned up. It's too hot to continue working in the garden. Besides, lunch is ready. Oh, and don't forget to take off your shoes before you come in the house."

"Okay, Mom," Peter shouted back and hurried to obey, his stomach already growling.

***

An hour later, Peter lay on his bed with arms crossed behind his neck, and he stared at the wall. A faint breeze wafted through the open windows, causing the curtains to sway softly. The sounds of chirping birds filtered into the room. Peter sighed and shifted on the bed. The breeze wasn't enough to cool down the room. Though he'd just showered, a thin sheen of perspiration covered his upper body, causing his shirt to cling uncomfortably to his skin.

The teenager decided to take another shower and stood up. His pillow fell to the floor. Peter bent down to retrieve it and his gaze fell on the small box hidden under his bed. It contained the few possessions he'd rescued from the temple. His eyes misted over as he reached for the box and placed it on the bed. Despite the heat, he shivered. Cold crept through every fiber of his body, but it wasn't a normal kind of cold. It was the lingering cold of Caine's death that had left his heart and soul frozen for so long.

 _*I miss you so much, Father.*_

He sat down Indian style on the bedspread, and opened the lid. He took piece and piece from the box and spread them around him. They represented his most prized possessions from his past. A small jade Buddha; some strangely shaped pebbles; a papyrus roll that was a drawing from Dennis, his best friend from the temple; a weathered black-and-white photo of him and Caine, and a thin leather-bound book with Chinese symbols.

Peter took the picture in his left hand, lovingly tracing the outline of Caine's face with trembling fingertips as tears spilled down his cheeks. Peter sniffled and dabbed at his eyes with the hem of his shirt.

"Big boys don't cry," he mumbled, choking back the tears. He pressed the photo to his heart and rocked back and forth until he felt he'd regained his composure. Then he pulled it up, took a last glance and kissed Caine's features on the picture before carefully laying it back into the box. The Buddha, the drawing and the pebbles followed. He reached for the book with a longing look.

A sad smile played on his lips as he remembered who had given him the diary. It had been a present from Ping Hai for Peter's twelfth birthday, five weeks before the destruction of the temple. Old Ping Hai had told him he could start a journal of his own. Peter opened the book. All he saw were white pages and the sight made him sniffled again.

At the temple, he'd been too busy to start the journal, and at the orphanage, he'd been too afraid to even think about it. He knew that the supervisors at the orphanage regularly searched the boys' possessions. The last thing he'd wanted was for anyone to read his private thoughts. If Peter had learned anything at that place, it was to trust no one, not even himself.

Peter stared at the white pages again. Could he trust now? Could he trust Paul enough? He had to admit Paul had never given him any reason for mistrust. Right from the beginning, Paul had treated him like one of his own children. Even at night, when the nightmares returned with a vengeance, neither Paul nor Annie had ever pressed him to talk about the frightening dreams. They had simply held him and had calmed him down when he shook in terror. They always waited until he made the first step. A tiny voice in the back of Peter's mind told him they would never invade his privacy by reading his private journal.

Peter's thoughts wandered to Caine. He missed his natural father constantly and today he missed him even more. "Pop, why did you have to die?" he whispered. It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair! He'd lost his mother at the age of two, why did he have to lose his father, too? Was he such a bad boy?

"Life just isn't fair, pal," Peter murmured to himself, trying to lighten his mood.

He sighed and reached for a pen on the nightstand. Then he grabbed the pillow and laid it on his lap, placing the book on top of it. After all, what better way to feel closer to his father than to continue the tradition of writing a journal for the next generation?

*Yeah, if there's even another generation.*

Peter scribbled the date into the book, and then stopped, not sure how to continue. Absently, he nibbled at the top of the pen as his eyes followed the flight of a fly in the room. Finally, he knew what to do. He bent over the journal and started to write.

 

> > Dear Father,
>> 
>> I know you will never read the letter, because you are dead. You were taken from me with the destruction of the temple. For a long time, I was very angry at you because you left me alone. I wanted to die too, but I never had the nerve to end my life by my own hand.
>> 
>> Ping Hai took care of me, but he became very ill. He sent me to the orphanage before he died. I hated him for that. The three years I was forced to live in there was like a neverending torture. Even living on the streets as a beggar would've been better than that.
>> 
>> I tried to run away a couple of times, even from some so called foster families, who looked more for a submissive slave than for a child to love, but they caught me every time and I had to go back. I finally landed in Pineridge. They said I was a difficult juvenile. If there is any place on this world that deserves the name hell hole, it was that place. Each day I was forced to stay there, a tiny part of me died.
>> 
>> Everything changed when Paul Blaisdell visited the orphanage for a lecture on police work. I still don't know why, but somehow I caught his attention and he started to see me on a regular basis. I visited him and his family on the weekends for a few months and then I came to live with them.
>> 
>> Pop, they are good people and treat me like one of their own. They're also very different from the other three foster families I lived with before I ran away.
>> 
>> I like the Blaisdells a lot. I hope you are not angry with me that I call Annie 'Mom'. You know, I can't remember much of my real mother. Maybe she'd be clearer in my mind if you had been there to tell me about her and remind me of things we did together, but you couldn't. You were dead…and Mom just faded from my memories like you did from my life.
>> 
>> It just seemed natural for me to start calling Annie Mom after a few months, but I still have problems calling Paul 'Dad'. I do it very rarely.
>> 
>> He is a wonderful father for Kelly and Carolyn (they are my foster sisters) and very patient, but I see him more like an older friend (yeah, okay, much older friend). Maybe it is because you are still too vivid in my thoughts. I feel as if I'd be betraying you if I called Paul 'Father'. I think he doesn't like it very much that I still call him Paul, but he accepts it.
>> 
>> He is captain of the 101st police precinct in Chinatown and he treats me really good. We'd say, 'He's tough but fair.' I still don't know what he sees in me. I wasn't easy to handle when I first started coming here, but they never gave up on me. Not Annie, not Paul, not even the girls. In the meantime, I'm content living here, though I still have a lot of trouble trusting anyone.
>> 
>> I made a big mistake last week. I wasn't thinking and I watched three girls at a lake. I also trespassed on private property. Pop, please don't be angry with me. I know I brought shame to our family name. I hope you can forgive me when my time comes.
>> 
>> Paul caught me. He was very disappointed at what I had done, just like you would have been. I still feel so bad about what I did. I thought Paul would send me back to Pineridge, but he didn't. He's really very loyal and I don't think I'll ever be able to repay him for saving me from the orphanage. I honestly don't know what would've happened to me if Paul hadn't taken me in. Somehow I don't feel worthy of all the effort Paul takes with me. I know it was because of Paul's doing that the girls' parents didn't press charges. Of course, he and Annie punished me, but I'm okay with that. I mean, I really deserved it.
>> 
>> Summer vacation started on Monday, so I didn't have to go back to school. It spared me the teasing of my classmates and the accusing looks of the girls that I would have had.
>> 
>> As part of the punishment, I have to work in the soup kitchen three nights during the holiday. It feels good to do something for the less fortunate. I, of all people, should know how it feels to have nowhere to go and to feel abandoned. I really like helping people. I think I will continue working there, maybe one or two days a week in the Fall, depends on how hockey training and school are going.
>> 
>> I also have to help Annie in the house, more than usual. You know, dusting, doing the dishes or working in the garden, but I also like doing that, because I can spend more quality time with Annie. She's a very special woman. Though she's blind, she 'sees' more than 'normal' people. I'm sure you'd like her very much. It's too bad that you will never meet.
>> 
>> Father, I miss you so much. Not a day goes by that I don't think of you. Sometimes, it's harder to not have you with me than other times. Today is one of those times. It hurts so much not being able to hug you or ask you questions about life.
>> 
>> The Blaisdell's are really a great bunch of people and they will always have a special place in my heart, but no one in this world can ever replace your place in my heart. I love you, Pop. I wish that you were here with me right now. I would give everything I have for that wish to come true. Unfortunately, it won't ever happen. At least not in this life. Maybe I shouldn't say this, but I look forward to death, because then we will be reunited for all eternity.
>> 
>> I love you
>> 
>> Your son, Peter.

A knock at the door made Peter jump. He snapped the book shut, throwing it in the box and hid everything under the bed before he shouted, "Come in."

He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down and wiped the moisture from his eyes. Kelly entered the room with tears streaming down her cheek as she held something in her fist. Peter held out his arms. The little girl ran to him, scrambled on the bed and snuggled to him. Peter hugged her close, brushing the tears from her face. "What happened, squirt?" he asked gently.

Kelly opened her fist and showed him one of her tiny dolls for her doll house. One arm was separated from the body.

"I played with Alida and she fell down and her arm snapped. I looked for Dad, but he and Kermit are away and Carolyn is with a friend. Can you help me?"

Peter smiled reassuringly at her. Big pleading child eyes looked back at him. He held his breath. The innocence, love and trust he saw in those eyes was like a healing balm to his soul.

*Being a big brother isn't so bad. Maybe there are still some things worth living for in the world.*

"Can you?" Kelly's voice cut through his thoughts.

Peter nodded and placed a kiss at her forehead. He looked at the clock, astounded at how much time had passed.

"Come on, sweetie. Lemme see what I can do for you. We still have an hour before dinner. I'm sure that's plenty of time to repair Alida."

He was rewarded by a brilliant smile that cut right to his heart.

***

The whole family, including Kermit, met for dinner. After dinner, Paul, Annie, Kermit and Peter went to the living room. It was Carolyn and Kelly's turn to do the dishes and they joined them a few minutes later. Peter was sprawled on the floor, his head resting against the couch, and he frowned as Kelly went directly to Kermit, snuggling close to him.

He wondered what his youngest foster sister saw in the close-mouthed individual. Wherever Kermit was, Kelly appeared there sooner or later. The nine-year-old girl followed him around like a puppy. To Peter's surprise, Kermit never seemed to tire of her. Peter had a feeling Kermit became a different man whenever she was around, like a flower seeing the first light of day, because the man started blooming as soon as he saw her.

Peter shook his head. How could a grown up man wear sunglasses all the time, even inside a house or in the dark? He preferred to look into a person's eyes, but he'd never seen Kermit's eyes. Peter's suspicious nature told him that the older man must be hiding something. Why else should he wear glasses and never take them off? There was something else about this man, something Peter wasn't able to put into words. It was as if Kermit was surrounded by a brick wall as high as Mount Everest. There was simply no way to see within or break down the barrier.

In fact, Peter felt very uncomfortable around him. The few times the two of them had been alone in a room were times of deep silence. Peter had tried, really tried, to get near to that friend of Paul's and talk to him, but all he'd earned were some monosyllabic or evasive answers.

Peter sighed inwardly. Listening to the animated conversation going on the couch, he felt he was the only person having problems with the man. Even Annie acted like Kermit was someone to value. She treated him as though he belonged to this family as well. Well, maybe Peter's slight aversion against the man was just because he didn't know Kermit as well like the others did. After all, Kermit was a close friend of Paul. And if Paul trusted Kermit, he should too. Still, he couldn't shake the thought that this man was far more dangerous than he appeared. Peter was dying to know what the two men talked about when they retreated into Paul's study.

Peter caught a knowing smile from Paul and quickly looked away. Paul couldn't read his thoughts like his natural father used to do, or could he? He quickly extinguished that thought. Thinking about his father hurt too much, especially after the letter he'd just written. Perhaps, it was better to stop thinking and just pay attention to the ongoing conversation.

Kelly happily bounced up and down at Kermit's side, eliciting a grunt from the green shaded man.

"Kelly, Kermit isn't a piece of playground equipment. Pay a little more attention. Remember, Kermit has an injured leg," Annie chided her gently.

The child stopped the motion right away. Her lip quivered as she peered at the athletic man. "Uncle Kermit, did I hurt you?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Kermit flashed her a hearty smile and hugged her close. "Nah, sweetie. Everything's fine. Hey, do you want to play something before you have to go to bed?"

"Yes, please!" Kelly shouted cheerfully.

Chiding forgotten, she leaped to her feet and rattled out a variety of possibilities. Her sister chimed in and after a very temperamental discussion, they finally agreed on Memory.

"Peter, you wanna play too?" Kelly asked.

"Kelly, it is, do you want to play," Annie corrected her with the patience of a mother.

Kelly merely grinned and repeated her question.

Peter shook his head. "Nah…but maybe I'll help you."

Kelly beamed. "Great! Carolyn and Uncle Kermit won't have a chance against us."

Before Carolyn had the chance to complain about the conspiracy, Paul got up and reached for his wife.

"That's our cue. Let's leave the four children alone. Have fun with your game. Annie and I will seek serenity in my study."

Kelly giggled and nudged Carolyn. "Did you hear that? Daddy called Uncle Kermit a child," she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

The grown-ups chuckled, and Carolyn merely rolled her eyes. "Aw, come on. Let's get something to drink before the game starts." She grabbed her sister and dragged her along.

Paul helped his wife up and pointed to the cupboard to the right side. "The game is up there, Kermit. You better get it down before the girls come back and start climbing on the furniture like a pair of lunatic monkeys."

Kermit grinned. "Sure, Paul. You have fun, you two."

Annie smiled back, even if she couldn't see his smile. "You too, Kermit. Keep an eye on the trio."

"I will, Annie, I will."

Kermit got up and headed for the cupboard. Peter also scrambled to his feet and went to the bathroom. When he returned, Paul and Annie had left for the study and Kermit was on tiptoe, fumbling for the game.

Kermit didn't seem to notice that the loosely fitting dark blue shirt he wore had ridden up and bared a good part of his back, but Peter did. He stifled a gasp at the sight of various bruises and whip marks covering Kermit's back. Peter felt the color drain from his face.

The dark haired man managed to get a grip of the game and pulled it down. He turned to Peter and frowned at him. "Are you okay, kid?"

Peter gulped hard, deliberately avoiding Kermit's green-glassed glare. "Y…Yeah, sure. I…I think I ate my supper too fast," he lied.

Kermit threw him another suspicious glance and then showed a ghost of a smile. "Old habits die hard, huh? I've never seen anyone eat as fast as you do, kid. Why don't you go out to the terrace and take a couple of deep breaths? If you need help, just holler."

Peter didn't hesitate. He didn't even realize that Kermit had said more than just the usual two or three words to him for the first time since his arrival. The youngster just nodded and rushed to the French doors leading to the garden. With a thud, he plopped down on the slatted wood of a bench, trying to regain his composure, but failed.

He had no idea how long he sat there, frozen to the spot, listening to the cheers and laughter from the living room. He couldn't think, even breathing was difficult. And he didn't have the faintest idea why the discovery of Kermit's hidden injuries affected him so much.

Peter gasped in surprise as a hand touched his shoulder and he tensed up in response.

"Whoa there. Sorry, I didn't want to scare you," Kermit said and removed his hand.

"I…I didn't hear you," Peter stammered.

A quirky smile played on Kermit's lips. "Figured. Listen, I just came out to ask if everything was all right with you? You've been awfully quiet." He pointed to the French doors behind his back. "Besides, the girls are missing you in there."

Peter's thoughts whirled. There were so many, he couldn't deal with all of them. Now would be a perfect time to talk with Kermit about his recent discovery, but as hard as he tried, Peter couldn't force the question out that weighed so heavily on his heart. Finally, he mumbled, "I'm okay."

Kermit tilted his head. Peter felt like a bug under the scrutinizing glare that wasn't much softened by the tinted glasses.

"You're sure? You don't look good to me."

Peter managed a wan smile and fumbled with the hem of his shirt, unable to look into the man's face.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm just not in the mood to play with my sisters, okay?"

It was obvious that Kermit didn't buy his lame excuse, but he didn't dig deeper. Not bothering with a reply, the mysterious man shrugged, turned and limped back to Kelly and Carolyn.

As soon as Kermit had left the terrace, Peter buried his head in his hands, suppressing a sob. What was wrong with him? Behaving like a coward had never been his way. The bruises on the man's back spoke of great violence. What the hell had happened to Kermit? Why hadn't he'd been able to ask Kermit outright what had happened? Or was he so afraid of the answers he might get? Maybe he'd chosen to avoid the talk, because he'd also lived through violent time in his life, namely the destruction of the temple. Was he mixing up the emotional pain he felt with the bodily pain Kermit must be feeling? Was he simply worrying about the safety of his foster family? Why would he care so much about a man he barely knew and didn't really like?

The urge to run to his secret place was nearly overwhelming. Peter yearned for the calming presence of the small brook, and more importantly, the water. It was the place he could think best and come to terms with everything…well, nearly everything. However, that wasn't an option now. Peter didn't even dare to think about what Paul would do if he were to run off into the advancing darkness. He was already in enough trouble. There was no point in getting in any deeper. Finally, the world blurred in front of his eyes as he was giving in to confusion and nagging, unanswered questions.

***

"What are you doing here all alone, son?" Paul's voice startled Peter.

"Paul, I didn't hear you."

Paul rubbed his hand across his chin and sat down beside Peter with an audible grunt. The look on Peter's face was all too familiar to him. He always looked like that when he either thought about his life at the temple or something was nagging at him.

"You were spaced out. I don't think you would have noticed a herd of elephants in your current state. Are you okay?"

"Y...yes," Peter stated in a tone that meant the opposite.

"Well, son. Do you have an idea how late it is?"

"Huh? Uh, no." Peter looked at his wristwatch. "Wow, how did it get to be so late?"

"Just how long have you been sitting out there?"

"Um, maybe four hours…"

Paul turned to look at Peter, knitting his bushy brows. "Annie asked if you want to join us inside. The girls are in bed."

"Uh, no. I'd rather stay out here a bit longer. I mean, if that's okay.”

Paul was very well acquainted with Peter and his nervous energy. Watching him sit motionless at the same spot for hours wasn't a typical behavior for Peter. Normally, the teenager tended to pace like a caged tiger if something was bothering him. So what was bothering Peter so much that he was frozen in place for hours, he wondered.

Paul sighed deeply and placed a supporting hand on Peter's skinny shoulder. "Son, you know, if you want to talk, I will listen."

"Thanks," was all Peter said.

Paul studied Peter more closely. It was obvious that the boy was deeply bothered by something. The shoulder muscles under his hands tensed and he removed his hand.

"Are you angry about missing the party with your friends tonight?" Paul asked abruptly. "Look, son, you may think our punishment might be a bit harsh, but…"

"No, Paul. That's not the reason," Peter interrupted.

"Then what's bothering you for heaven's sake? I can see how upset you are. Listen, it doesn't matter what it is, Peter. I'm your friend, and you can talk with me about anything."

"I…I," Peter stammered before he fell silent again.

Paul didn't try to persuade Peter a second time. He let the minutes pass. If Peter really didn't want to talk, there was no way to force him. Peter would talk when he was ready, not a single second earlier.

"What happened to Kermit, Dad?"

The question caught Paul off guard. Surprised, he tried to catch a glimpse of Peter's expressive eyes, but Peter only stared at his hands. It also didn't escape Paul that Peter had called him 'Dad'. Paul grunted inwardly, his son only did that when he was an emotional mess.

"What do you mean, Peter?" Paul asked guardedly, wondering exactly what Peter meant by his comment.

Peter took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "I…I saw Kermit's back today. It was covered with bruises and whip marks. I…I just wondered who would be so cruel to do something like that to another human being."

Paul caught Peter's trembling hands in his own and pressed them reassuringly. "There's a lot of evil in this world," he said with a sigh, for lack of a better explanation.

The kid had already suffered enough. He saw no reason to show him anymore of the type of cruelty men could do to each other. Peter had no idea that Kermit was a mercenary. Hell, he didn't even know that Paul had also been a mercenary before he'd joined the 101st. None of his kids knew much about his former life and he wanted to keep it that way until they were old enough to understand everything. All they knew was that he'd worked for the government. After all, it was partly true. Whenever he had to leave town for a few days for his former work, he and Annie always told the kids he was away for a convention. Annie was the only person who knew everything – and Kermit.

"Yeah, tell me about it. I've seen my share of evil," Peter snorted. "Still, it doesn't explain what happened to Kermit."

Paul sighed deeply, knitting his brows together. "Kermit was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Call it what you want, son. All that matters is that Kermit survived and, in time, his injuries will heal."

Peter pulled his hands out of Paul's light grasp. "I catch your drift. You don't want to tell me what happened. How about telling me something about what Kermit does for a living?" he said a bit louder than necessary.

"Why do you want to know, Peter?"

Peter jumped up and started pacing. Several times he drew a hand through his tousled hair before he turned to Paul with his hands on his hips in defiance.

"Why? You want to know why? I'll tell you why, Paul. Whenever Kermit wears a suit, he's also wearing a gun. You can see the bulge at the small of his back. I just know he's not a cop, so why does he have a gun? You never carry one when you're in the house and you're a cop!

"Besides that, he's always on the alert. I can't count the times I've seen him reach for his gun when he's heard a strange noise. He tries not to show it, but he flinches every time somebody touches him. Even with Kelly! Come on, Paul, even Kelly? That's just not normal!

"And then, there are his morning walks. If you ask me, he's not taking a walk, he's looking for anything suspicious, as if he is constantly on the lookout for a possible attack. He's always so tense and withdrawn, and why doesn't he ever take off his glasses? What's he hiding from?"

Running out of steam, Peter stopped the rapid babble. Paul gaped at his foster son, stunned at the close observations and Peter's precise insight of Kermit. He knew Peter was a bright boy, but he never expected him to have such a talent for observation. He'd clearly underestimated him.

Paul got up and approached Peter. Putting both hands on his bony shoulders, he said, "Look, son, I can't tell you anything more about Kermit, because I respect his need for privacy, just as I respect your needs, too. Just give Kermit a chance to get to know you better, you might be surprised. Do you actually think that he's a threat for our family?"

Peter nodded, seemingly embarrassed that he'd revealed so much of his feelings.

Paul held Peter's gaze. "Son, do you trust me?"

"Y…Yes sir, I…uh…do trust you," he choked out.

"Then trust me when I tell you that Kermit's no threat to our family. I can understand if you don't feel comfortable around Kermit, but he wasn't always the man he is now. In fact, he's a very loyal and caring man, he just has a very unusual way of showing it. You are too young to understand what happened to make Kermit the way he is now. Maybe, when you are older, I'll tell you more about it."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad."

Paul smiled. "I know, but you're not an adult either. Peter, you went through a very hard time in your life. So did Kermit. Don't try to carry all the problems of the world on your shoulders. Let the adults take care of things once in a while. I also want you to know that none of this means I don't appreciate your strong sense of protecting your family against harm. In fact, I'm very proud of you for that."

"You're not angry?"

Paul pulled him into an embrace. Peter hesitated a split second before he returned the hug fiercely.

"No, I'm not, son. It took a lot of guts to say what you were thinking, even though you know that Kermit's a very good friend of mine."

Peter stepped back. "Will Kermit be all right?"

Paul's face sobered, a look of despair whisked across his face before he smiled back at his son. "In time, he will, son. In time, he will." He ruffled Peter's hair. "Now, come on in, it's getting chilly out here."

***

Paul pulled a wooden box out of the top desk drawer. He opened the lid, offering the contents to his friend. "Cigar?"

Kermit grimaced. "No, thanks. As much as I'd like to, but I'm not brave enough to face Annie's wrath if she discovers we're smoking in your den."

Paul looked disappointed, shut the lid and put the cigar-box away. "I'm afraid you're right, Kermit. However, it was worth a try."

Kermit grinned. "It's hard not being the boss in your own house, huh?"

"I wouldn't want it any other way. Annie is everything I ever dreamed of."

"Yeah, you were lucky, my friend. Your first marriage ended with you leaving behind a baby and a toddler. I know that wasn't easy. I never thought you'd start a new family, let alone settle down."

"Neither did I, Kermit. Let's face it, the only good things from my first marriage were my two wonderful daughters. Aside from that, it was a big mistake. I'd never marry someone from the business again."

"Don't let Annie hear that you're talking about marrying anyone but her."

Paul threw Kermit a look of pure death. Kermit responded with his patented wolf-smile before shrugging. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, and leaned back into his overstuffed chair.

"Now that the small talk's over, what's the reason for dragging me into your den?"

Paul raised an eyebrow. "Do I have to have a reason? We've talked about many things here in my den over the past few days."

Kermit snorted. He peered at Paul over the rim of his glasses. "I know you too well, my friend. The way your right hand is resting on the desk indicates that I'm in for a serious talk."

Paul suppressed a curse and resisted the urge to pull away the traitorous, slightly twitching, hand. *The best defense is a good offense.* He took a deep breath.

"I want you to come in from the field, Kermit. I have a nice, cozy office just waiting for you at the one-oh-one. We need a computer expert like yourself."

Kermit held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy, Paul. I'm not looking for a new profession."

"Damn it, why not? The last raid went bad. Very bad. You were barely alive when Rykker found you in that hell hole. Your injuries nearly cost you your leg, not to mention your sanity! Kermit, I know the signs of a burn-out. And you, my friend…" he paused a second for effect, "…are burned out. Why don't you leave that life behind and settle down for heaven's sake! If you continue at this rate, you won't live long enough to celebrate your thirtieth birthday."

If Kermit was surprised about Paul's outburst, he didn't show it. "Well, then I have still three years ahead of me. That's better than nothing. Did it never occur to you that I like my line of work? I'm not like you, Paul. I'm not a family man," he said in a relaxed tone.

Paul huffed in disgust. "I don't believe you for a minute. You can't tell me that you enjoy killing people. Remember? I was there when you killed a person for the first time. You puked out your guts afterwards!"

Kermit showed his white teeth. "A lot has changed since then. As far as I remember, you were the one who showed me how to kill people. Everything I know, I learned from you," he shot back.

Paul rubbed his chin. "You were a young smart-ass who knew nothing about life. I promised your father I'd take care of you when he died in that attack, but I have to admit it was a big mistake to allow you to follow into your father's footsteps."

"There's nothing wrong with it," Kermit sputtered.

"Yes, there is! You believe you're a cold-blooded killer, but you're not, Kermit. When I first met you, you were a bright, caring, open-minded and very inquisitive boy. The death of your father changed you. All you could think of was revenge. In that state of mind, you were a threat to your own family.

"You never realized how much Marilyn, David and your mother needed you. You retreated into yourself and shut everyone else out. You might think it was a coincidence that I showed up after you were in that fight with a street gang, but it wasn't. I took you with me – kept you out of prison - because I knew prison would break you. We, your mother and I, thought if I could take you under my wing, I could prevent the worst. Unfortunately, we were wrong. I…"

"Stop!"

The younger man's angry shout interrupted Paul's uncommonly long speech. His fist came down hard on the desk, now his stone-faced mask he always showed to the world was gone. He tore his dark glasses from his face and glared at Paul. His jaw twitched in pain and rage, and he swallowed hard.

In a dangerous tone, spoken low and slow, which made it even more ominous, he added, "You're crossing the line, Paul. No one is allowed to do that and still live to talk about it. No one, not even you. You might think I'm not a killer, but I am. I wouldn't hesitate for a second to kill you if you keep this up."

Paul wasn't the least bit intimidated. In fact, he had to force a grin into hiding. Kermit had reacted exactly the way he wanted him to. "Okay, Kermit. Just answer me one question. Why did you agree to visit Annie and me without any fight, not even a grumble?"

The question caught Kermit off guard. Paul saw a vein pulsing on Kermit's forehead. Kermit pushed the glasses back into place. A few seconds later, the pulsing vein eased and his pokerface snapped back into place. "I just wanted to see you and your family again. And I was curious about the new addition to your family. You've talked my ear off about the kid whenever we met."

Paul felt his gaze unnerve Kermit as he cut through Kermit's casual lie with ease. "Yeah, sure, tell that to someone who will believe it, not me, because that's bullshit and you know it. You came here because you knew the house was a safe hiding place. You knew you'd find solace and peace…."

"Now you sound like a preacher," Kermit interrupted Paul once more. "'Home sweet home' doesn't work with me. Is this your new form of brainwashing? I have to tell you, you're doing a lousy job."

"No, I want to make you understand that you can lie to others, but you can never lie to yourself. Deep inside yourself, in your heart, you know that it's about time to settle down."

Kermit theatrically clutched at his chest. "Ouch, that hurts, stabbed me right in the heart." He pretended to listen intently and then frowned. "Well, you're wrong, my heart tells me I still like my line of work."

Paul sighed exasperated. "That's not funny, Kermit. Life isn't a joke. I don't want to have to be the one to tell your mother, Marilyn and David that you died in the field, just because you've been too stubborn to grab the chance I'm offering you."

Kermit's mood darkened. He leaned forward, closing the distance to Paul. "Leave my family out of it. They have nothing to do with my decisions!"

Paul mimicked Kermit's demeanor, shifting into an icy stare. "I can't, Kermit. You have no idea how much they worry about you. When was the last time you talked to them? I mean, really talked to them? Don't you realize they worry constantly about you, afraid that someday you won't come back from a mission? Do you think it's easy for Marilyn to take care of a husband who has no backbone, a teenage brother, a toddler and a frail mother in the early stages of Alzheimer's while pregnant and without any backup? Marilyn doesn't need the money you keep sending to ease your conscience. She needs a strong shoulder for support. Your shoulder!"

Kermit's mouth dropped open. "What? Alzheimer's? Pregnant? What the hell happened?" he asked weakly.

Paul frowned, concerned as he watched the color drain out of his friend's face. "You didn't know?"

Kermit shook his head. "N…no. I talked to her a couple of months ago, right before the raid. She never mentioned it."

"She didn't know about it back then. She got the results of your mother's illness and her pregnancy three weeks ago. She needed someone to talk to, and since she couldn't reach you, she called me."

In a flash of rage, Kermit jumped up from his chair, but his weak knee gave way and he clutched at Paul's desk, his knuckles turning white. "And the thought you could tell me about it never crossed your mind!" he shouted. "You knew where I was, trapped in that damned backwater hospital! Why didn't you send me a message?"

Paul kept his cool. "Easy, Kermit. Actually, I did send you a message. Apparently, you never got it. I thought you would have straightened everything out with Marilyn in the meantime. I took the fact that you were willing to come here for recuperation as a sign that you would go to visit her later on when you were in better health."

Kermit scratched the back of his neck in frustration. "Damn, damn, damn! I had no idea. I have to go to her, now!"

Paul stood up and stretched out both hands. "Kermit, calm down please. You're not thinking straight. Before you go rushing off, take a few minutes to sort through things and then call Marilyn. Nothing is gained if you dive in without thinking about it first."

Paul put his hands on Kermit's shoulder and led him back to his chair. He applied gentle pressure and Kermit plopped down like a rag-doll on the cushioned seat, hiding his face in his hands.

"I'll come back in an hour, okay?"

"Yeah," Kermit murmured.

***

Exactly an hour later, Paul knocked on the door to his den, opened it and leaned against the door frame. Kermit, still talking into the receiver, waved him in. Paul closed the door and stepped into the room, sitting down in the chair in front of the desk. He was relieved to see that Kermit looked much calmer.

A few seconds later, Kermit hung up the phone and glanced at Paul over the rim of his glasses. Paul raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

Kermit let out a long breath before speaking, "Thank God, Alzheimer's was a wrong diagnosis. They mixed up Mom's test results with another woman's. Marilyn is fine. She's just dealing with a nasty case of morning sickness. Hank lost his job, but has already found a new one. And David…well…I think he could use a stronger hand. Seems he started to hang around with some very unsavory youths lately. She's afraid they are a bad influence on him."

Paul sighed in relief. "Well, that doesn't sound too bad. Are you going to visit her?"

"Yeah, I'll see her next week. That'll give me time to gather some information about David's…friends."

"Why don't you give Marilyn another surprise by telling her that you've quit your job to start working at the 101st?"

Kermit laughed, his tension easing. "You never give up, Paul, do you?"

Paul joined in with Kermit's laughter. "Never."

He sobered. "Kermit, I mean business. Think about my offer. By taking the job, you can kill two birds with one stone. You're in from the cold and you're just an one-hour drive away from your family."

Kermit hesitated. "Don't try to pressure me into a decision, Paul. I'll take it personally. Maybe you're right – maybe it is time to accept a more…uh…stable position. On the other hand, I really don't know if I am ready yet. The excitement of being in the field can become addicting, as you well know."

"Oh, I'd say you'll find enough excitement in police work. I can't promise you a safe haven. It's a dangerous job, too. Look, I don't expect an immediate answer. All I want is for you to promise to think about my offer. Can you do that for me?"

Kermit shrugged and grinned. "You are like a terrier. Once you find a bone, you never let go of it. Just make sure you don't bite too hard, I've already suffered enough flesh wounds, but I promise I'll think hard about your offer. Deal?"

The mercenary stuck out his hand and the former mercenary grasped and shook it.

"Deal, buddy."

***

Peter was returning from his duty in the soup kitchen, whistling a tune. He was later than usual, because he'd spent a whole hour talking with one of the homeless after his shift had been over. He'd called to let Paul know he'd be late, so he figured it was okay to spend some time watching the sunset.

Various shades of red tinted the sky. The sun looked like a blazing ball of fire, slowly sinking down to the horizon. Little stars started twinkling in the rapidly darkening sky. Peter took a deep breath, admiring the wonder of the nature. So many times he'd watched the sunrise or sunset with his natural father at the temple in Northern California. It always had been a time of peacefulness and love. They'd stood at the cliff, Caine's arm draped around him, sharing in the contentment of the moment.

When the temple had been destroyed and he'd learned of Caine's death, Peter had thought his world was gone. Now, he realized that it wasn't gone, it had just changed, it was just different. Not in a bad way, but not the same as it had been. His father used to tell him everything changed. Peter fought the changes in his life for a long time, but now he was in a good place.

A gush of wind stroked over Peter's skin, feeling as if Caine was brushing fingers across his cheeks, a caress of long bygone times.

"Father," Peter whispered into the night and his sense of loss over Caine's absence grew. He wrapped both arms protectively around his chest to ward off the sudden chill he felt. His father was dead, and nothing would ever bring him back.

The wind died down, as did the strange feeling. He shivered once more and straightened his shoulders, continuing to stare at the sky until the sun vanished and darkness set in. Taking a shuddering breath, he turned round and headed for home, impulsively deciding to enter the house from the backyard. By doing that, he'd a few more seconds to gather his composure.

He jumped over the fence and landed in the backyard. Tigger, the house cat, greeted him with a warm meow and pressed his tiny body against his ankle. He bent down and scooped the furry cat up, scratching him behind the ears. The cat responded with a contented purr. Peter hugged the animal closer. The mere contact with the cat made him feel better in an instant. Animals had so much love to give and all they wanted in return was regular feeding and a caress from time to time.

Tigger meowed again, licked Peter's thumb and squirmed in his grasp. Peter smiled faintly, allowing the fur ball to jump from his arms. He followed him with his eyes until Tigger vanished in the undergrowth, probably hunting for mice.

Sensing his sadness had improved, Peter crossed the lawn. He reached the first step leading to the porch when a movement to his right caught his attention. He whirled round, and spotted Kermit standing under a tree a few feet away from him. Judging by the sagged shoulders and the death grip Kermit had on the tree, the man was suffering.

A wave of sympathetic compassion washed over Peter. Kermit looked so forlorn and lonely, and Peter completely forgot about going inside. Instead, he turned round and approached the silent man.

Kermit didn't seem to notice his nearness. Cautiously, Peter addressed him. "Kermit, are you okay?"

The spectacled man didn't react. Peter wondered what he should do next. Was it wise to leave Kermit alone, or maybe he should try and talk to him? He remembered how much better he had felt after that talk he had had with Paul. Maybe this was the opportunity to get to know the man better. The fact that Kermit neither reacted to his approach, nor to his greeting, concerned Peter. Truth be told, it was so much out of Kermit's usual behavior that it gave Peter the creeps. However, he couldn't turn away. The pain that radiated in waves from Kermit was so familiar to him that he wanted to help the man.

Peter stepped closer and laid a hand on the shaded man's shoulder. The touch triggered a reaction. Before Peter knew what was happening, Kermit whirled round, his left arm shooting forward as it curled around Peter's throat. A split second later, something black reflected in the moonlight and Peter found himself held at gunpoint with the biggest gun he'd ever seen pressed tightly against the soft skin under his chin. The sound of a gun being cocked was unnaturally loud in the silent evening and it terrified Peter.

Peter only managed to cry out in surprise, afraid of how the solid pressure of the gun against his throat made it hard for him to breathe. A moment later, Paul and Annie rushed out onto the terrace, alerted by his fearful shout. Paul switched on the exterior light. He held his breath as he looked in their direction, and then he leapt into action.

"Kermit, put that gun down!" Paul said carefully as he jumped over the railing.

Annie put a hand to her face, gasping in horror at the tone in Paul's commanding voice and his disturbing order to Kermit. She followed her husband into the yard.

~~

Realization for Kermit set in. Shocked, his hand dropped to his side as he stared into wide open, terrified eyes that looked as shocked as his own. He let go of Peter, stumbling a step back. "I'm sorry," he stammered, horrified.

Paul reached the twosome and pulled the trembling teenager into a protective embrace, scowling at Kermit. Ice blue eyes seared Kermit's glasses, burning deep into his soul. The captain didn't say a word.

The Desert Eagle fell out of Kermit's limp hands. He swayed and had to lean against the tree to keep his balance. A noise, half sob/half choke, escaped his throat. Paul handed the confused Peter over to Annie, who'd reached them by then. Slowly, he bent down and retrieved the weapon from the grass. After carefully checking it over, he put the safety on and stuffed it in the small of his back.

Kermit swallowed hard and felt the cold chill of blame creeping up his spine. He wasn't able to take his eyes from the badly shaken Peter. He heard Annie's soft voice crooning calming words into Peter's ear as she stroked his back in a soothing rhythm.

"I'm so sorry," Kermit repeated over and over again like a broken record. Even to him, his voice sounded hollow and dripping with guilt. He didn't manage to shake off the aftermath.

Paul switched quickly from concerned father into cop mode. In his best police captain's voice, he issued his orders. "Annie, take Peter back to the house. Kermit, take a couple deep breaths and sit down before you collapse."

Kermit nodded and slid down the rough trunk of the tree, realizing it would be better to obey Paul's order than trying to straighten out the mess he'd gotten all of them in. Besides, there wasn't much he could do right now.

Annie didn't argue, even though Kermit knew she wanted to. She simply steered Peter back to the porch without saying anything, but the expression on her face told the mercenary that she would read him the riot act for attacking one of her children later.

As they reached the porch, Peter suddenly whirled around. He looked at Kermit, then at Paul. Fastening his gaze on his foster-father, he said accusingly, "You told me Kermit would never do any harm to your family. Well, it's obvious that your friend, Griffin, doesn't consider me a part of your family! Do you need any more proof?"

Then, the teen tore away from Annie's grasp and stormed into the safety of the house, oblivious to Annie's shout to wait. She hurried to follow him.

***

Paul waited until Annie had closed the French doors before he turned to Kermit. He looked down at the man who sat in the grass with his back pressed against the solid tree, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"What the hell happened?"

"He took me by surprise when he touched me. I just…reacted," Kermit said in a flat tone.

Paul waited for him to continue, but the merc refused to say more. Silence stretched, gnawing at frayed nerves. Paul felt his anger rising. The cop and ex-mercenary in him knew that Kermit hadn't done it on purpose, but the father in him raged, driven by the urge to protect his children. The father won.

"Dammit, Kermit! I told you that you were burned out! He's only a child!"

The muscles at the corners of Kermit's jaw twitched spasmodically. He brushed invisible fluff from his jacket before he stood up. In a smooth motion, he pulled the glasses from his face. Raw emotions of unprotected eyes were reflected by the dim light. He glanced at the house, and then his gaze darted back as he locked on Paul's unflinching gaze.

"I don't know what to say, Paul. A simple 'I'm sorry' isn't enough. The kid's right, I'm not only a threat to him, but to your family, too. I should never have come. If you didn't believe I'm a cold blooded killer before, now you have proof."

Paul's anger faded as quickly as it had come. One look at the beaten man in front of him told him how much Kermit regretted what had happened.

"No, you're not a killer, Kermit. If you were, the kid would be dead by now. It was just an unfortunate accident."

Kermit snorted. "No, it wasn't. I simply acted and reacted as the man I am – a killer for hire. Don't you see it, Paul? Why shut your eyes from the truth? What else has to happen before you believe it? Hell, I nearly killed an innocent child – your child!"

"You said he took you by surprise. There's no one to blame. Peter didn't know he shouldn't touch you unexpectedly, because I never told him. So, if you want to blame someone, it's me."

"Bullshit! You weren't the one holding that kid at gunpoint. I was!" A deep sadness shadowed Kermit's eyes. "I was out here, thinking about your offer to come in from the cold. We both know I can't stand being touched after the torture in…" Kermit hesitated in mid-sentence, "…you know where. I kept the promise I gave you in the den. I considered all the pros and cons…if I could manage a normal life, if I could leave the violence and bloodshed behind. I…I thought maybe…maybe I could do it and then…then this happened."

He shook his head. "No, Paul, I'm not made for living in a cozy neighborhood, caring about other people, having a social life. It would never work. I'm too dangerous, too battle-marred. I've received too many scars too fast."

Paul shut his eyes for a moment, pushing back the memory of the cruel torture Kermit had had to endure in Beirut. Now wasn't the time to talk about it. He opened his eyes again, seeing the change that went on in the younger man. The sadness was replaced by steel hard determination and a hint of regret. He prayed he wouldn't hear the words, but they came.

"I'm leaving, Paul. And I'll never come back. Tell Annie and Peter I'm sorry and kiss Carolyn and Kelly goodbye for me."

"Kermit, no," Paul protested. "You're making the wrong decision. I can understand if you can't stay here any longer. But don't make the mistake of turning your back on everyone. You never ran from anything!"

Broken eyes looked at him. Kermit held Paul's gaze for a few seconds, then he carefully put his green glasses back into place, and started to speak in a forced even tone. "It's too late, Paul. My decision is final. There's always a first time. I won't take the chance of hurting you, Annie, or one of your kids. Never again. Good-bye, Paul. We'll meet at the next mission. You know how to reach me in case you need me."

Kermit didn't wait for an answer. He simply reached to Paul's back and retrieved his weapon. He stowed it in the small of his back, turned round and limped away, vanishing into the night.

Paul stared at his friend's retreating back, too stunned to react. He had no idea how long he stood there, feeling as if he'd lost a child – a 27-year-old child.

"Kermit, running away won't help. You need your friends now more than ever. You can't do that to me! You can't just walk out like this! Please, come back," he whispered into the dark as tears of loss and helplessness ran down his face.

***

"Paul, honey, where are you?" Annie's voice cut through the night.

Paul took a deep, steadying breath and a quick wipe at his face, before he turned round to approach his wife. "I'm here, hon." He took her outstretched hands and drew her into a tight embrace.

Annie's head cocked to one side. "Where is Kermit?"

"Gone." Paul sighed.

"Gone?"

"Yes," Paul said in a tone that signaled the finality of the simple statement.

Annie leaned against him. "I understand why, but damn him! No one does that to my children and then just leaves."

"It's not his fault. You know what he's gone through."

The blind woman sighed deeply, calming in his comforting presence. "I know. Still, he shouldn't have left."

"There was no way I could keep him here. We have to accept his decision, even if it's wrong. How is Peter?"

Annie straightened. "He was very upset and was still shaking after several minutes. I coaxed him into taking two valerian capsules. He's sleeping soundly now."

A shudder raced through Paul's body. "What a mess."

"We'll get through it, together, as a family. We always do."

Paul shook his head. "I doubt Peter will be so forgiving. You know him. He will either hate Kermit with all his heart, or he'll blame himself for what has happened. I bet it's the latter."

Squeezing Paul's hand, Annie said, "Peter will get over it. I'm sure about it. But you'll have to have a long talk with him. You have to tell him more about Kermit and make him see the kind of man Kermit really is. It's the only way for Peter to know that it wasn't his fault."

"I know, I know," Paul sighed, sounding less than pleased about the task ahead.

The conversation broke off. The couple spent long minutes in silence, holding each other, drawing strength from one another.

Finally, Annie slipped off her glasses and rubbed her forehead before turning her sightless eyes on Paul.

"What do you think? Will they ever meet again?"

Paul kissed the palm of her hand and stroked the hair from her face. "Kermit's too stubborn to ever come back as long as Peter's here. Nevertheless, I have a feeling they'll meet again, Annie. You know the saying: 'You always meet twice.'"

Annie nodded, then tugged at his hand. "Come on, darling. Let's go inside and sit with our son."

The End


End file.
